A Tale of Rogues and Thieves
by moviemaniac217
Summary: Rogue is a pickpocket in New Orleans trying to get by. But when she crosses paths with Remy LeBeau, the infamous Price of Thieves, will things turn for the better? Or are things going to end up going from bad to worse?
1. Chance Meetings

Rogue couldn't remember the last time that she hadn't felt hungry. Sure, she had managed to snitch a roll from the baker's stand this morning, but it still wasn't enough to fill the gnawing emptiness. A series of painful coughs wracked her body as she observed the swirling mass of humanity that seemed to thrive even in the midst of humid, rain-soaked, New Orleans winter.

The pouring rain plastered her tangled hair to her face and her tattered T-shirt to her thin frame, further adding to her discomfort. She ignored it, along with the sharp pain in her right wrist and continued to map out possible targets in the crowd.

That woman looked promising, large bag hanging temptingly open. And that well-dressed man with the tell-tale bulge in his pocket, eying a few hookers down the street. Oh yes, he was definitely distracted. And so was that flashily dressed tourist who had obviously had a few too many drinks. She smiled, these would be easy pickings if she was lucky, and maybe a chance at the first hot meal she'd had in almost a year.

Another coughing fit took hold of her and she clutched her chest as each agonizing one ripped though her body, leaving her torn between gasping for breath and passing out from pain.

_Ah wish these pains would jus' go away,_ she thought as her breathing finally evened out_, Ah can't hardly move anymore, and Ah can't remember the last time Ah got a good night's sleep. Besides, a loud pickpocket is more likely to get caught than a quiet one. _

She straightened herself up as much as possible and slipped from the alley with a practiced, fluid grace that comes from years of practice. She slunk through the crowd, being careful not to stray too near anyone. She approached the man who was still eyeing the hookers hungrily. She passed by him, lifting his wallet from his pocket without a movement betraying the theft. She slipped into the shadow of a nearby building and opened it. The sheaf of bills in it made her eyes widen. Quickly she removed the wad and stuffed it into the pocket of her torn and dirty blue jeans.

"Hey, you!" she looked up at the shout and saw the man she'd just pick pocketed standing there glaring at her.

"Merde," she muttered before turning and bolting out the opposite side of the alley.

Her chest burned with each breath she took and she gasped air as fast as her weakened body would allow. She couldn't keep this up much longer. She moved her way through the crowd and dashed through an outdoor café, nearly upsetting a waiter with a tray of wine glasses. After a few minutes of taking whatever twist and turn she could find, she staggered to a halt and leaned against a nearby building, vision swimming.

Her eyes started to swim with unshed tears, but she pushed them back forcefully. Tears weren't going to help her should that man find her. Running footsteps in the alley made her look up, afraid that he had found her.

Instead a tall man ran towards her. His slightly long auburn hair tousled itself in the wind as he moved, in perfect sync with the brown duster that swirled out behind him. She stood frozen in the alley as her eyes met his, ruby irises swimming in a sea of onyx. He slowed down long enough to grasp her hand in his and lift it to his lips, brushing a kiss along the knuckles of her glove.

He smiled at her charmingly and winked one of his unusual eyes at her before turning and fleeing. She stood staring after him in shock for a moment before realizing that he had slipped something into her hand. She glanced down and felt her mouth drop open at the stunning elegance of the necklace in her hand.

A pair of hands grabbed her arms roughly, forcefully grounding her back to reality.

"All right missy," a short stocky man with a decidedly unfriendly expression ground out, digging his nails into her skin," Yo' going downtown."

"Ah didn't steal the necklace, it was given ta me," she squeaked in protest as the stocky one's partner, a lanky blonde, grabbed hold of her other arm.

"Yo' can tell your story at da station. Now let's go."

"Hey, that girl stole my money," a familiar voice rang out and she wanted to groan as the man stumbled to a stop by them.

"Oh she did, did she?" Blondie asked and started to frisk her.

His hands lingered near a couple of areas a little too long and she wanted nothing more than to either slap or kick him. He eventually pulled the cash from her pocket and handed it to the fuming tourist.

"Now I demand that you lock her up immediately, street scum like her ought not to be wandering about," the man said and reached out to take her wrist, which had come uncovered from the officer's grip.

Her eyes widened and panic raced through her system. "No," she cried out as he grasped her skin," Don't!"

The man stiffened and she fought back a whimper as his mind copied itself into hers through her skin. So many emotions, memories, his voice faded to the general uproar that already resided in her mind. Flashes of his life danced on her eyelids. His teenage years, his first kiss, his wedding, the ugly divorce, watching the hookers with carnal hunger, a slight girl with two tone hair making off with his wallet, agonizing pain as he touched her wrist; it all flashed through her mind.

The man, Wallace Richards, collapsed back onto the pavement unconscious. Stocky turned to her, "What did ya do ta da homme?"

"She's a mutant," a passerby shouted and instantly a group of people flocked around the alley.

The two cops shoved her roughly out into the crowd, who immediately formed a ring around her. "Do what ya want folks," Blondie called out casually," She ain't human, so she ain't our problem."

A burly man dressed in black leather stepped out from the crowd and kicked her in the ribs. She couldn't help the squeak of pain that broke through her lips. The man grinned and then his expression turned murderous.

"My brother was killed by a mutant last year, now I'm gonna get a little payback," he spat and grabbed her injured wrist.

She screamed and he laughed, sending a chill through her. He twisted her wrist even harder and her drawn out cry of pain filled the air. He started kicking at her ribcage and she felt the intense agony of bones breaking.

Then, suddenly he was gone and a series of explosions filled the air, sending the milling crowd scrambling in all directions. She sensed a presence nearby and a gentle hand laid itself on her shoulder. She tried to jerk away, but all she could manage was a weak flinch.

"Shhh…. It's okay chere," a rich voice said soothingly," I ain't gonna hurt yo' none."

Her eyes flickered open and widened as she met a pair of familiar crimson and black ones.

"You," she whispered, anger and pain infiltrating each word," Ya'll …are the reason …Ah'm in …this mess."

"Oui, desole," he said with an apologetic grin, before scooping her up in his arms," But we'll discuss dis later non?"

She meant to answer, she really did, but the sudden movement of her battered body and already aching chest sent a wave of pain over her so strong that she slipped into unconsciousness.

* * *

Remy LeBeau rarely felt guilt for anything he did, after all he stole, lied, cheated, and manipulated for a living, and he did it all with cool calculation. This, however, was one thing he did feel guilty for.

He had honestly never meant for things to get that out of hand. He saw her; dirty, tattered clothing and tangled auburn hair marked with white streaks. And her eyes, deep pools of emerald green that met his with a slightly dazed expression. He knew she'd get caught with the necklace. But she was innocent, and they would have let her go with lack of evidence to convict her on. He watched as the officers apprehended her, as he expected.

What he didn't expect was for another man to come running up to them and point at the girl accusing her. He watched as the blonde officer began to frisk her. He snorted in disgust as his hands lingered at her chest and rear; he had zero respect for men like that. He watched as the officer pulled a sizeable wad of cash from her pocket and his eyebrows rose, suitably impressed. The cash was handed over to the tourist and he said something before reaching out to take the girl's wrist.

His empathy rang with her panic and he watched as both man and girl stiffened for a moment, before the man dropped back onto the pavement unconscious. The officers looked shocked and he heard someone call out, "She's a mutant."

_Merde_, he cursed internally_, What have I done?" _

He turned as he sensed Henri sidling up to him. "You lose the necklace?" he asked.

"Oui, I lost it," he said as her pain began to infiltrate his empathy again," But I jus' brought down de law an' a crowd on a mutant fille."

Henri's eyebrows rose and he opened his mouth to say something just as her pained scream rang through the air. "Go get 'er," he said and Remy darted out into the crowded street.

A handful of charged playing cards sent the crowd running pell-mell in all directions. He knelt by the girl, who was obviously struggling to keep conscious, and laid a gentle hand on her shoulder. She flinched from his touch and he hastened to reassure her.

"Shh… It's okay chere, I ain't gonna hurt yo' none."

Her emerald eyes flickered open and he nearly gasped at the depths of the anger and pain in their depths that leaked out into her words. "You, ya'll…are the reason …Ah'm in …this mess."

"Oui desole," he said and scooped her up, well aware of the fact that the fear of the explosions was slowly being overridden by the crowd's hatred of mutants," But we'll discuss dis later non?"

She didn't answer and he felt her body sag as she slipped into unconsciousness. Quickly he moved his way through the still slightly shell-shocked crowd and disappeared down a nearby alley. Emil stood by the door of a plain black Honda Civic, holding the door open while his gray-green eyes sparkled with interest and excitement. He could almost see the adrenalin rolling off him in waves.

Remy slid in the backseat, being careful not to jostle the girl in his arms too much. Emil slammed the door behind him and Henri quickly pulled out into the afternoon traffic. There was tense silence for a moment as everyone kept glancing over their shoulders, looking for signs of pursuit. When it became apparent that there was one, they all visibly relaxed and Remy took the time to study the girl in his arms more closely.

Her hair was tangled and full of street grime and dirt, the white streaks a pale creamy brown. Her skin was pale, almost translucent, and her delicate features had a thin, starved look to them. Which, he admitted to himself, probably wasn't far from the truth, life was hard on the streets and starvation was an all too common occurrence. Her clothing was faded, torn, and was past the point of doing anything but throwing the garment away. Her tennis shoes were ripped at the sides and the simple black gloves she wore were threadbare and nearly falling apart at the seams.

He glanced over her clothing with another appraising glance as he remembered the incident in the alley. Apparently her mutation was in her skin, and from her outfit he could tell that she did do her utmost to hide her skin. And, he swallowed; the wet shirt was doing a lot to show off her curves, thin and emaciated as she was. If she looked this good now, the he could only imagine how she'd look when she was well fed and clean.

He finally tore his gaze away from her and became aware of the intense, feverish, warmth that radiated off her.

"Emil," he said," Yo' had better call de masion an' tell dem and Dr. West to get de medical wing ready."

Henri glanced back at him in the mirror with a raised eyebrow. "We takin' de fille home?"

"Oui," he replied resolutely," It's my fault she got hurt. De least I can do is ta make she gets better."

Henri nodded and Emil raised his cell phone to his ear.

* * *

"So I brought de fille home wit' us," Remy finished and eyed the man sitting across the desk from him.

Jean Luc LeBeau puffed on a cigar unconcernedly, leaning back in his chair with a thoughtful expression on his face.

"So de cops got de necklace back hein?" he asked.

"Oui pere, we'll just have ta try again."

Jean Luc nodded and focused his brown eyes squarely on Remy's red on black ones. "Yo' did right mon fils. And dis might end up workin' ta our advantage. Yo' say she's a mutant."

"Oui, but I don' know much more about it other dan it's in her skin."

He nodded again and opened his mouth to say something when there was a knocking at the door. "Enter," he called and the door swung open to reveal a man in a white lab coat.

Dr. West was a short man with a mop of blonde hair and a sorrowful expression that reminded Remy of a basset hound staring morosely into its empty food dish. He took a seat on a velvet lounge and sighed.

"How is da fille?" Jean Luc asked and the doctor focused weary eyes on his leader's face.

"She's in pretty bad shape," he admitted, his English accent clashing with the Cajun ones so common in the Guild," Three of her ribs are broken, two others are cracked, her right wrist is badly sprained, she's terribly malnourished and has a rather horrid case of pneumonia. All in all, she's quite under the weather."

Remy kept his carefully crafted poker face in place, though inside he has hanging his head in shame. How many of her injuries had he been indirectly responsible for?

"I have her attached to an IV and am giving her some antibiotics and vitamins though it, as well as the liquids her body needs," he continued," But she still has a long road of recovery ahead of her."

"Can I see her?" Remy asked, keeping his face carefully neutral.

Dr. West nodded," Yes we moved her to the recovery ward. But don't stay too long, she needs her rest."

Remy nodded and vanished out the door of his father's study and down the hall. He found himself at the door to the ward and stepped inside. Only one bed was occupied, and he made his way to her side.

The nurses had obviously bathed her, and her once grimy hair now fanned the pillow in glittering auburn and white waves. She looked almost childlike in the innocence than formed itself across her features while she slept. He smiled a small yet sincere one as he came to a conclusion. She was beautiful.

He ghosted a gloved hand over her cheek and then swept out of the recovery ward as silent as a shadow.


	2. A Time to Heal

Warmth, when was the last time she'd been this warm? Her sleep fogged mind swam in lazy circles as she half-heartedly tried to come up with a timeframe, but quickly decided that she didn't really care. All that mattered was the feeling of the soft mattress beneath her and the warmth of the blankets over her. She was tempted to turn and bury her face into the soft pillow beneath her head and she let a sigh of contentment escape her lips as her mind and body began to re-enter the world of awareness.

She stiffened as she became aware of a nearby presence and the faint noises that could only belong to medical equipment. Any contentment at the comfort she had been feeling before fled as fear and panic filled her. She couldn't have found her again could she?

Her eyes flew open and she struggled to sit up, trying desperately to pull free of the snarl of tubes she could feel attached to her. Pain suddenly rushed through her ribs and the intensity of the pain from her injured wrist made her cry out.

"Whoa, whoa petite," a calm, rich voice said," Yo' alright. No one's gonna hurt yo'."

She turned towards the voice and froze in shock. It was him, the one who had given her the necklace, and rescued her from that mob. She lifted her eyes to meet his, forcing her emotions to calm down; if he really wanted to hurt her he would have done that already. Besides, as long as she hadn't recaptured her she could deal.

"Where am Ah?" she asked, cursing her voice for sounding so hoarse and weak.

He smiled, and tilted his head to the side studying her.

"Well, let's jus' say dat yo' at Headquarters. I'm guessin' dat yo' heard of de Thieves Guild."

"What pickpocket hasn't?" she asked wryly and paused as she watched his smile widen a bit," Wait… is that where Ah am now?"

"Oui," he said and leaned forward in his chair," How much do yo' remember?"

"Ya mean, before I blacked out?" she asked. He nodded and she continued," Ah remember you giving me that necklace," she pinned him with a look," gettin' captured, being touted as a mutant, gettin' beat up, and you helpin' me." She paused," Did Ah miss anythin'?"

He chuckled," Dat sounds about right cherie. Desole 'bout dat, but I had ta dump dat necklace right quick and yo' were awfully convenient. But if had any idea dat yo' were a mutant and dat everythin' woulda worked out like dat, I'd never have done it."

She sighed and leaned back onto the pillows, still very aware of the injuries she'd sustained. "Ah can't say Ah'm happy 'bout any of that, but you did come back ta get me. And that's more than anyone else has ever done, so thank ya."

"It was de least I could do, after all dose injuries were my fault," he said, waving off her thanks," But dere is one thing dat I've been wonderin'."

"What's that?"

"Back in dat alley, I saw dat man touch yo' skin and den he passed out cold. I know yo' a mutant chere, but what exactly is yo' mutation?"

She sighed, flinching as her body protested, and glanced down at her gloveless hands. "Ah'm an absorber, Ah can take a person's life force, their memories, their lives if Ah hung on long enough, and if they're mutants then Ah can borrow their powers and use them fo' a short time."

"And de people yo' absorb?" he asked and she glanced up in surprise at his tone. He didn't sound afraid or leery of her, he sounded more… curious.

"They get knocked out and humans tend ta wake up slower than mutants. So Mr. Wallace Richards could already be up, or he could wake up in a few days, a few weeks, a month, or… he might never wake up. Ah jus' don't know."

He nodded his head and stared at her thoughtfully. She ducked her head and glanced at the monitors from the corner of her eye. "How long have Ah been here?"

"Three days," the man said and she looked back at him in surprise.

"Ah was here that long?" she asked and he nodded. She closed her eyes and sighed," Look, thanks again for savin' me, but Ah should probably go. Ah'll pay ya back what Ah can…"

She trailed off as he pinned her with a stern look. "Now wait a minute…" he trailed off and a look of surprise flitted across his features," Yo' know, I jus' realized I don't even know yo' name."

"Rogue," she said stiffly," Everyone calls me Rogue."

"Enchante Rogue. Now as I was sayin' we ain't expecting anyt'ig in return, jus' dat yo' get healed up."

She carefully locked her gaze on the wall at the opposite side of the room," Look, the last time Ah let someone help me, it didn't turn out well. So if it's all the same ta ya…" she said and then paused as she realized that while he had her name, she didn't have his.

He seemed to realize this and took her bared hand in his gloved one. "Remy, Remy LeBeau, or Gambit if yo' prefer, at yo' service Rogue."

Her eyebrows raised as her mind immediately made several connections. "Remy LeBeau? As in the Prince of Thieves, second son of Jean-Luc the King of Thieves and leader of the Thieves Guild, Remy LeBeau?"

"De one and only," he said and chuckled as she rolled her eyes. "Ah mighta known," she sighed and flinched again as her body began to protest more and more.

His eyes took on a quiet, thoughtful look. "How're yo' feelin'?" he asked and swiped a wayward lock of white hair from her face with a gloved finger.

Her breath hitched at his proximity, and her body trembled with the pain and tension of keeping her body still as her anxiety level rose. He seemed to sense this as he quickly, yet gently, drew his hand away from her face.

"I'll have Dr. West give yo' some more pain meds, and den try an' get some rest. When yo' feelin' better, we'll talk some more."

She nodded her head and watched as he swept out of the room, as graceful and silent as she'd expect the Prince of Thieves to be. She leaned back, trying not to focus on the pain in her wrist and how much it hurt to breath. She studied the room around her with much more interest, and discovered to her surprise that the room was decorated more like an upscale hotel than a recovery room. The walls were painted in warm beige with abstract paintings hung in tasteful array, while heavy white and gold curtains hung between the beds, giving the impression of separate areas while keeping everything running cohesively.

"Good morning dear," a deep English-accented voice said cheerfully from the doorway.

She turned to see a short blonde haired man in a doctor's coat standing in the doorway. She wasn't quite sure why, but the first thing that came to mind was a basset hound staring at the world through mournful eyes. One of these days, she mused, she should really think about getting one they were absolutely adorable.

"Mornin'," she greeted, "What time is it?"

"About half past eleven, now come along. Just a quick once over and I'll have Rebecca or Sarah bring you something to eat."

He pulled on a pair of latex gloves and she fought not to flinch as he examined her, shining a light into her eyes and listening to her heart. Besides reminding herself that he had gloves on, she also had to repress memories of the last time someone wearing a lab coat had examined her. After all Dr. West was much nicer than they had ever been, and his manner was much more calming and gentlemanly.

"Well young lady, I must admit that for a girl as malnourished as you are, you're not in too bad of shape. But tell me, when was the last time you had a good hot meal?"

"Over a year ago," she said softly," Ah've just had a hard time this past year."

He smiled kindly and placed a comforting hand on her knee and she blinked in surprise. "Don't worry my girl; this has been an interesting year for all of us. By the way, what's your name child?"

She smiled. "Jus' call me Rogue."

"Very well then Rogue," he said and produced a prescription bottle from his pocket. He opened it and shook a couple pills into the palm of his hand, which he then gave to her with a glass of water he poured from her bedside water pitcher. "Take these," he ordered kindly," And I'll round you up some lunch. How's that sound?"

"Wonderful, thank ya," she said gratefully and gave him a small, but genuine smile.

"Excellent," he replied and with a warm smile he disappeared around the corner of the door, white coat swirling around him like a cape. She fought back a giggle as her mind conjured up the image of a basset hound galloping around the corner of the hall with a white curtain trailing out behind him.

* * *

Remy leaned against the balcony outside his father's study, cigarette dangling from his lips. Rogue, he smiled as he recalled the way she'd told him her name, like she was daring him to challenge it, was a puzzle to him and he found himself being genuinely interested in this little thief he'd brought home.

Her personality was tough and sarcastic, life on the streets having taken their toll on her mind and body. But underneath her prickly exterior his empathy picked up fear, loneliness, disbelief, and a longing so deep that it almost broke his heart. Once again he thanked Lady Luck that he'd been adopted by people who genuinely loved and cared for him, otherwise… he shuddered to think about it.

He heard his father join him and light up his own cigarette. "Lot on yo' mind fils?"

"Oui," he said and turned his red and black eyes to meet his father's brown ones. His father smirked and raised an eyebrow, pinning him with a curious yet knowing look.

"Yo' been talkin' to dat mutant girl," he commented," Find anythin' out about her?"

"Not much," he said and took a short drag on his cigarette, blowing out the smoke expertly as he ordered his thoughts," Her name's Rogue and her mutation is unique, de only one I've ever heard of. She can absorb de life force, memories and powers of another person. Other than dat, and de fact dat she's a good pickpocket, I got nothin'."

"Hmm…" Jean Luc mused, staring out over the bayou thoughtfully," She's a good pickpocket yo' say. Do ya t'ink she'd make a good thief to de Guild?"

"I reckon so, wit' de right training and given enough time. After all, due to her powers she's a natural thief."

"Well, once she gets ta feelin' better, be sure ta make her a formal offer. Can never have too many t'eives or too many mutants de way I see it."

"Merci papa," Remy chuckled as the side door to the balcony swept open.

Dr. West stepped out into the sun and joined them when his king beckoned him forward. "I daresay, for a girl from the streets she has the constitution of an ox and she seems to be recovering nicely. I left her in the company of Sarah, Rebecca, and a bowl of hot soup."

"Does seem ta help when yo' ain't feelin' good," Remy mused," Though I know it's all in yo' mind."

"Most certainly, but from what the young Rogue tells me this will be the first hot meal she's had in a year, apparently this has been a bad year for any non- Guild pickpockets."

"Dis year's been hard on everyone," Jean Luc said and snuffed out his cigarette," Poor fille, can't imagine how it'd be ta live on de streets with little or nothin' ta eat, and ta top dat off the streets aren't easy."

"And dat's why I'm glad yo' took me in papa," Remy remarked as the three men made their way back indoors," Otherwise I hate ta think where I'd be now."

His father smiled and clasped him on the shoulder, before turning to discuss something or other with Dr. West. He stuck around for a while, but when he realized that they were no longer discussing the enigma of a mutant femme with the white streaks in her hair; he wandered off back to his room.

He stepped into his room and shut the door softly, eyeing the interior with a soft smile on his face. Most people only saw Remy as Gambit, Prince of Thieves, or Le Diable Blanc; the wild mutant with the penchant for women, cigarettes, gambling, and liquor. He wouldn't lie to himself, he was all those things but that's not all he was.

His room looked more like something you'd see in a designer magazine. The walls were painted a deep red, while black lacquered furniture stood in a stark contrast to both them and the snow white covers on the bed.

He placed his duster on the back of a chair and lovingly fingered a small trophy he'd won at a Guild Youth poker competition when he'd been a child. His unique eyes swept over the collection of framed photographs of his family that dominated the dresser and any spot on his bookshelf that happened to be free of books.

Flopping down on his bed, he closed his eyes and let his mind wander. Unsurprisingly, it wandered back to Rogue. He sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. What was it that was so attractive about this girl? Something told him, he'd have plenty of time to figure it out.


	3. Offers

Rogue ran the brush through her shoulder length hair, awkwardly trying to comb out some of the tangles there.

_Ah can deal with the pain, _she thought_, But Ah can't deal with how hard it is ta do the simplest things like brush my hair, it's damned uncomfortable. _

Tugging gently on a particularly twisted snarl of hair, she tentatively raised her injured wrist to try and help force the brush through the knot. The flash of pain from both ribs and wrist quickly made her rethink that idea, and she sighed in irritation. She rested the brush on her lap and played with the bristles absentmindedly, enjoying the feeling of the plastic sliding against her bare fingers.

Once in a while, she mused as she stared at her hands, her mutation was actually useful and she did enjoy some of the perks of absorbing other memories and skills. But most of the time, her mutation was a curse. She could never escape those memories, the nightmares they would bring with them, the phobias and fears that were never her own. But the true downside to her mutation was the barrier it put between her and the rest of the world, the barrier of touch.

A blush crept across her cheeks as her mind swept over that one barrier, every type of touch from a hug to an intimate caress was completely foreign to her since she was sure to keep away from others and vise versa. The only exception to that rule seemed to be Remy, and it made her suspicious.

What game was he playing? He knew she was completely untouchable and he knew how dangerous her powers were, so why did he still insist on running his gloved fingers through her hair or taking her hand in his?

She sighed, a mix of frustration and longing. She wished she could figure out what his game was, or at least be able to reciprocate his actions or. But why she even cared at all was a true mystery to her, she had long ago given up on getting close to others. Less pain when they finally betrayed you that way.

Bracing herself, she once again tried to raise her wrist to finish untangling her hair and she hissed at the pain. Suddenly, the brush was taken from her hands by a pair of warm, gloved ones and she froze.

"Need some help?" he asked as he carefully ran the brush through her hair, gently unwinding the tangles.

"Remy," she said, struggling to keep her tone steady," What are you doing?"

"T'ought it'd be obvious," he said playfully," I'm jus' helpin' out a belle femme in need."

"Ah ain't one of those needy girls Ah've heard you attract like flies Remy," she snapped, his name rolling off her tongue," Now how's about ya'll give me back the brush and git."

He chuckled and moved to the side of the bed so he could study her profile. "Yo' a brave femme Rogue, talkin' to da Prince of Thieves dat way."

"Ya'll may be da Prince of Thieves but ya ain't my Prince," she grumbled," or my Knight in Shinin' Armor either."

He chuckled and handed her back the brush, brushing his finger slowly against her wrist. Her breath hitched and she could almost feel his smirk. She bristled internally, two could play at that game.

So she leaned back a little and eyed him from the corner of her eye. "Besides," she purred," Ya'll know that ya just like bein' around me cause I don't fall all over ya. Besdies, ya know ya like it when I talk to ya that way."

He blinked at her, shocked and she fought to hold in her laughter. _Serves ya right_, she thought_, That ego of yours needed ta be taken down a couple of pegs._

His face suddenly smoothed out and his trademark smirk slunk across his features.

"Oh I do like it," he purred," And as to bein' yo' Knight in Shinin' Armor, how about I jus' come visit ya at night… wit' nothin' on."

Rogue mouth fell open in shock and he laughed at her expression. "See ya later Rogue," he said with a wink and bolted from the room.

She sat for a moment in stunned disbelief before dissolving into painful laughter. The nerve of that guy, she couldn't believe it; but then again, maybe she could. He did seem to love getting her riled up.

The pain in her side flared up again and she forced herself to calm down, glancing at the clock as she did so. She reached over and picked up two pills from the dish at the side of her bed and swallowed them with a swig of water.

"Ah'll be glad when this is all over," she sighed," Then I can get outta everyone's hair and get back to the streets, where I belong."

"I must say Rogue, that is quite an unhealthy state of mind to be in," a familiar English voice spoke up from the hallway.

She turned her gaze to the familiar form of Dr. West as he leaned against the doorframe of the room.

"Whaddya mean?" she asked and watched as he moved until he was sitting beside her.

"Just because you came from the streets Rogue, does not mean that you belong there," he told her gently," Never let where you've been define who you can become."

She smiled at him, one tinged with sadness. "Ah was defined from the moment Ah was born, my X-gene said Ah was going ta be a thief of powers, life, and memories. Life on the street dictated that Ah was gonna have to be a pickpocket ta survive. Ah've been betrayed more times than Ah can count and Ah've never had one person in my life that has ever wanted me. So as good as your advice sounds Doc, forgive me if Ah might be a tad bit biased towards it."

Dr. West smiled and tilted his head to the side," Yes, your past may have _molded_ you Rogue, but it has not _defined _you. Yes you are a pickpocket, a good one too from what Remy says, and you may be defensive, aloof, suspicious, untrusting, and afraid of your powers. But you have been molded that way by circumstances, they don't define your heart, only the outside."

Rogue stared at him a moment, unable to come up with any logical arguments, before a meek smile found its way across her face. "Ya'll sound like you've been down the same road."

The doctor smiled," A few my dear and I too was once young and angry at my past like you are now. But I was lucky to find people who cared for me, like you will if you should choose to stay on with the Guild."

"Stay on?" she asked surprised," I haven't been asked and besides, I'm nothin' special. Really."

"Now dat would be where yo' wrong petite, from what I've been hearin' yo' are quite extraordinary," a new voice said and she glanced up in surprise.

The man that stood in the doorway was of medium height with a lean, athletic build and long brown hair tied back into a ponytail. The corner of his mustache twitched up with his lip in a friendly smile and even though she'd never seen him before, she knew who was addressing her.

"Sir," she said, struggling to sit up a little straighter in respect," My apologies for not bein' able to greet ya with the proper courtesy."

"Non cherie, t'ink nothin' of it," he said and placed a gentle kiss to the back of her hand," I know yo' not up to da challenge yet, so I take no offense."

She smiled at him and he took the seat that had been vacated by Dr. West at his King's approach.

"So petite, I hear yo' soon be up an' about. Any specific plans for when yo' healed enough ta work again?"

"Not really," she said, fiddling with the hem of her sleeve," Ah thought Ah'd just go back ta the ways thing were."

"Back to da streets?" he asked quietly and she nodded in reply," Well petite, what if I could offer yo' somethin' different?"

"An' that would be?"

"Stay here, become a member of da Thieves Guild. Yo' have da skills from what Remy says and yo' have a mutation dat interests me. Yo' would be safe here, from anyone or anyt'ing dat would wish yo' harm."

She stared at him in utter disbelief for a long moment before she finally managed to get her voice working again.

"With all due respect sir, are ya sure? Some… people Ah know are rather unpleasant and have ties with some bad organizations."

"Have yo' personally sworn any oath to dem?" he asked and she shook her head," Den yes I am sure, yo' are yo' own person, anyone else is jus' anyone else."

She nodded slowly as she absorbed his words. "Then Ah accept."

"Bon," Jean-Luc said happily and claimed her hand in a formal shake," Welcome to da Thieves Guild Rogue."

* * *

Remy was nearly to his room before he finished laughing at the look on Rogue's face. She was so much fun to rile up, though he had to be careful lest she get so worked up that she hurt herself.

"Still messin' with dat girl frère?" Henri's voice chuckled from the shadows," I haven't seen you dis pleased wit' yo'self since yo' managed ta steal Cleopatra's necklace from right under da curator's nose. And he was watching yo' da whole time."

"Sleight of hand can make people not see what is smack in front of dere faces," he chuckled," Dat's why I love being de Prince of Thieves."

"Dat and da fact dat women usually flock to ya like flies to honey," Henri smirked, but then his face turned a little more serious," But dis is da first time I've ever seen you chase after a fille. What's goin' on?"

"Remy don't know what yo' talkin' about."

"An' Remy always switches to t'ird person when Remy don't like da question."

Remy sighed in defeat and eyed his brother from under his mop of long, auburn hair. "I'm not sure frère, dere's somethin' about dat girl dat seems to drw me in, instead of de other way around."

"So I've noticed. I've never seen you spend so much time wit' a girl, not even wit' your fiancé."

He stiffened at the mention of his future wife. "BellaDonna," he growled," Jus' because I'm supposed to marry her, and papa's tryin' to get me Outta dat, doesn't mean dat I gotta spend time wit' her."

"Some folks would disagree wit' dat thought process frère," Henri chuckled," But hey, flotteurs quel que soit votre bateau. [whatever floats your boat]"

Remy scowled at his brother half-heartedly. "It don' matter much anyhow. I doubt she gonna agree with stayin' on an' becomin' one of us."

"She did," a familiar voice said and Jean-Luc sauntered by, smirking as he felt his youngest son's disbelieving gaze on him," She'll be moved into da guest win in da mornin' an' will start wit' da trainees as soon as she's up for it."

Both men stared after their father until he disappeared around the corner to his own room before looking at one another again.

"Well Remy," Henri said and patted his brother on his shoulder before walking away," At least ya know ya'll have plenty more chances ta drive da femme crazy."

Remy watched his brother vanish down the stairwell and a small smile formed its way across his features.

"Ya and Ah can't wait until she gets well enough so Ah can see jus' what she can do," he said softly to himself and stepped into the room with a smile on his face.

* * *

Yes everyone, I'm finally back from my long absence and hopefully chapters will start going up at a faster and more steady pace. Fingers crossed everyone and I hope you enjoy this chapter. Your truly~ moviemaniac217


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